“I do not have scabies!” I replied indignantly. Despite my protests, I researched the condition to learn that it’s an infestation of the scabies mite. If only “one” is found, does the doctor say, “You have a scaby”?

Plural or not, I hate the name, although skin afflictions in general sound pretty disgusting. The last thing I’d want to contract is folliculitis or the heartbreak of psoriasis.

Whatever the cause, itches seem impossible to relieve.

Although kids and athletes have no qualms about scratching in public, the rest of us find it rather embarrassing. We try hard to be discreet unless you count rubbing against a door frame.

I used hydrocortisone cream for weeks till I read an article that said it should never be used on a rash.

Now they tell me.

Not all online counsel is helpful. “Stop thinking you’re itchy,” advised some know-it-all. “It’s all in your head.” To that end, at least one web site recommends hypnosis and conveniently offers a volume on the same topic for sale.

One might invest in one of those cones dogs wear around their necks to keep from scratching head wounds. Something tells me it would be hard to sleep though.